The Carrion Crow
by Keito-san
Summary: Morrígan, the Carrion Crow, is said to land on the battlefield and call out the names of the men who will die. When they do die, she carries their souls off to the other world. ChibsOC pairing.


**Authors Note: **I do not own SAMCRO. I wish I did, but I don't, so yeah. I own people you don't recognize. Pronunciation guide at end of each chapter. ChibsOC pairing. Chibs is the Scottish/Irish dude.

_Morrígan, the Carrion Crow, is said to land on the battlefield and call out the names of the men who will die. When they do die, she carries their souls off to the other world.  
_

Chibs was the first one to see the group as they entered the gate. There were three women and four men. The women were leading the pack. The foremost was obviously Irish, red hair, green eyes, pale skin with just a dash of freckles, and a silver Claddagh ring on her right hand. She was curvy, but not compared to the two dames behind her. They had the body straight out of the sixties, and they showed it off with revealing clothes.

The three of the four men were large, tough guys, guys you'd expect to be on bikes. They were bodyguards; they must've been, because they kept looking about as if trouble were everywhere. Well, trouble wasn't hard to find here in the garage.

The fourth man was as skinny as a whippet, and tall as a beanstalk. His dark hair was long and lank. He seemed just as confident as the female leader, but his dark hairs were shifty. He was an odd one, though. He wore his colors and jeans with working boots. No shirt. He was heavily tattooed with several rings in odd places. To Chibs, he looked, well, gay.

The Irishwoman stopped in front of Chibs and studied him for a moment. He knew what she saw. Her eyes flickered to his scars that ran along his cheeks. The Glasgow Grin or Chelsea smile that had hurt him in so many ways than one was his most prominent feature, but it made others frightened of him. The woman didn't flinch at his sight, but the others did. Whatever, he didn't care.

"Is Clay Morrow on the premises?" she asked with an Irish brogue, her green eyes unwavering.

"Why?"

"Business," she replied with a smile.

"What's your name?"

"Sadhbh Fionualla of the Sons and Daughters of Morrígan out of Boston," Sadhbh said. She then turned to the busty blonds at her right and named everyone. The only other name he noted, maybe because of its oddness, was the skinny man's: Athelstan. It fit the man.

"Wait here," Chibs ordered, before walking to the office of his boss. He knocked hesitantly. He heard a gruff grunt that allowed him passage. Clay was sitting at the desk looking at papers.

"A Sadhbh Fionualla is here for you, boss, on business matters," he said. Clay look up from his papers and at Chibs, and then out the window, where Sadhbh was talking to the six other members.

"Nice little committee they brought here with them. Seven's a lot to spare. Bring Sadhbh and the skinny one into the clubhouse."

Chibs nodded, and left. He heard Sadhbh speaking to her group. There were several languages all at once, sometimes switching mid-sentence. He caught some of it.

"Sadhbh, I'm not so sure," Athelstan said.

"Stan, everything will be fine. _C'est toujour facile _with the sons."

There was some interjection of Gaelic. Must've been Irish variant, he understood bits and pieces, but not the whole thing.

"You're the human lie detector, you just signal me. _D'accord?_"

_Human lie detector? Well, can't screw these guys over,_ Chibs thought as he coughed. Sadhbh looked at him and smiled.

"Boss says for you two to wait for him in the clubhouse."

"Clubhouse, eh? Mum was right about the ol' Sam Crow, wasn't she, Stan?" she said, glancing over her shoulder to her comrade. He gave a nervous smile and followed her inside, leaving the others waiting.

"So, what's your name, then? I know of only Clay and Piney," she asked, mounting the steps.

"Just call me Chibs," he muttered.

"Well, then, Chibs, pleasure. You Scottish?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just curious. That's all."

The woman looked around the clubhouse. She didn't seem to care about the dirtiness of the club, but rather seemed at home in it. She plopped down on one of the chairs and sighed.

Her friend, Athelstan, seemed the opposite. He wrinkled his nose at the grime. He opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it. His dark eyes darted about and finally landed on Sadhbh, who was sitting casually with her feet on another chair.

"Um… Sadhbh, _si on achetait le-.._."

"Say anything, Stan, and I swear to God, _tu vais mortir._"

Stan pouted, an odd look for a twenty something twig man. He sat down next to Sadhbh. She looked at the bar wistfully, then looked at Stan. He shook his head. She shrugged.

"You a prospect, lad?" she asked Kip. He nodded. She looked at Chibs.

"Can I boss him around?"

Chibs shrugged. He was pretty sure Clay wouldn't mind if she bossed Half-Sack around. She was in the clubhouse to meet with him.

"Cool. Prospect, draw up some brew for me," Sadhbh said, leaning back in her chair. Half-Sack drew the beer and placed it in front of her. She looked at it for a moment. She was staring at it intently, as if judging it. Finally she picked it up and started to drink it.

"Good beer. Thanks," she said. Clay came in at that moment. Sadhbh stood, letting her beer rest on the table. Stan stood too, still looking less than happy.

"Clay, nice for you to finally greet us," she said, her voice become gentle and business like.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Fionualla."

"Please, Sadhbh. This is Stan, I believe Mum told you about him," she said. Stan shook Clay's hand. They all sat down again.

"Chibs, why don't you join us?" Clay offered, drawing up another chair. Chibs sat next to Clay and watched Stan. Sadhbh took another sip of her beer before speaking.

"So you know why we're here. Dad talked to you over the phone. Life's getting hard around Boston. The Carrion Crow once spread her wings along most of Massachusetts's east coast. We were able to fly free with the Irish Mob, but with the mob gone, we're out of Boston. A new force has come in, bringing in hell. We think they're related to the Nord's."

"That's were you come in," Stand said, leaning forward. Sadhbh glanced at him, but took another sip of her beer.

"Aye. We've been threatened more than once and we brushed it off. But two weeks ago, they made an open attack against us. They killed three of our members and injured several more, including Mum."

"Mum as in Marie, Hank's old lady?" Clay asked.

"Aye."

"Shit."

Sadhbh took a larger sip of her beer and set down the glass. It was half empty now. She sighed and reached in to the pocket of her colors. She laid out photos of the crime. Several were of dead bodies lying in their own blood.

"That was Keagan, son of Baldy. Baldy is dying of grief right now. Keagan had the chance to make president after Dad," she said, in a hushed tone. She looked through the photos, then stopped and handed Clay and Chibs one.

"Is that what they did?" Clay asked, looking at a photo. It was a woman, about Gemma's age. She was beat up bad. Bruises flowered everywhere. Clay could barely recognize the face.

"That's Marie?"

"After the shooting."

"What do you mean 'after the shooting'?"

Sadhbh polished off her beer and set it down. She took the photos back and returned them to her pocket.

"The Sons and Daughters of Morrígan weren't always one. In fact, the Daughters have lived longer than the Sons. We formed during the Irish immigration. Women got together to support each other. We didn't become one until the seventies, though we often intermarried.

"The Daughters have their own clubhouse near the Sons. Marie was not hit in the first attack, but when she went to check on the Daughters, there was a second. No one was killed in this attack, but there were several more injured, and someone was kidnapped."

Sadhbh shook her head, letting her hair down. It fell in ringlets around her face. Chibs marveled at how Irish she looked. Her eyes were filled with tears. Danny Boy popped into his head.

"After we left to come here, we found out she was alive. She had been raped, god knows how many times, and left in a gutter. She's getting help, but I don't expect her back as a full member."

There was a pause.

"What do you want us to do?"

"Give us guns, ammo. We are normally peaceful, and don't have use for guns. But when push comes to shove… How much per gun?"

"Two thousand, five hundred," Chibs said. Sadhbh looked at him, her grass eyes turning into jewels, cold and beautiful. She smiled.

"We'll have to talk it over with Dad, but you can expect a deal by tomorrow," she said. "Thanks for the beer."

The four exited together. When they got out, Sadhbh's guard were there with all the bikes. Sadhbh went to one with a dark green tank chassis. Clay whistled.

"How'd a pretty little think like you get a bike like this?" he asked.

"Hand me down from me dad. It's a 1970 Moto Guzzi Nuovo Falcone 500," she said, a pride swelling in her voice.

"I have two, this one's for showing off me handiwork."

Chibs got a closer look at the chassis. There was an intricate paint job done on the entire bike a few shades lighter or darker than the base color. They were Celtic knots all over it, including the handlebars. They all met on the tank where a jet black crow spread her wings. Surrounding the bird was "SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF MORRÍGAN/ NEW ENGLAND EAST COAST ORIGINAL." Chibs suddenly gained a new respect for Sadhbh. She had to be high up to be allowed such a paint job.

"Dad was one of the founding fathers of the Sons and Daughters, so I guess I'm a high up. Not exactly VP, but, hey," she said shrugging. She got on the bike and started the motor, a wicked smile growing across her face. She put on her helmet and gave the peace sign before speeding off, the rest of the gang following her.

"Who was that?" Tig asked.

"Pay day."

**Sadhbh: _SIEV_**

**Fionualla: _fion-u-ALLAH_**

**Morrigan: _mor-EE-gahn_**


End file.
